|He rose to consciousness slowly, as if rising to the surface of a deep lake. Blurry images cleared gradually. A wall, a fire escape, a dumpster, boxes surrounded by trash. On the wall somebody had spray painted the words "Will you make it back?". It meant nothing to the man.|
He sat up, aware of a dull ache at the back of his skull. He reached back, felt dried blood and a sharper flash of pain. Looking down at himself he saw he was wearing jeans, ripped at the knees, dirty with alley water. On his feet were sneakers, once white, now a muddy brown. The shirt he wore was comparitively clean, just a few buttons missing but the leather jacket was filthy and torn. These were not his clothes, he was sure.
Wincing, the man rose unsteadily to his feet and took a better look around. Clearly it was an alleyway, but he didn't recognise it. Walking slowly to the street he noticed the sun was bright and still low. It was early morning. Yet he had no recollection of the previous night. He reached the street and scanned the area.
A bar - Ricky's, a 7-11, a Denny's, a gas station, a jewellers, a pawn shop, two clothes shops and a laundromat. This wasn't a street he was familiar with. There were very few people around. He guessed it must be no later than seven.
Turning right he walked towards the bar, crossing the street and stopping at the entrance to the parking lot. He stared at the sign, trying to connect the name with something. As he stared he was startled by a voice behind him.
"Mister, are you ok?"
He turned quickly. A middle aged Hispanic woman was looking at him curiously.
"You ok?" she repeated.
"Uh, I don't know," he replied.
"Are you lost?"
He opened his mouth to respond but was hit by a sudden realisation. He wasn't just lost. He had no idea who he was. His entire memory was lost. He staggered, feeling faint. The Hispanic woman moved quickly on.
"Drunk." she thought.
The man sat on the wall surrounding the parking lot, his head in his hands. Lost.